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A Moving Experience

You know how the night before your movers arrive you're Generally Anxious, because there's so much at stake? You're spending insane money, everything you own is vulnerable, there's a whole schedule thing that has to happen, etc.? And then you know how, when the move is over, you go, "Whew. See? Everything turned out fine. All that worrying for nothing"?

Yeah, I didn't have the second part of that experience. I should have worried MORE.

I should have been waiting for our movers with a shotgun, and told them to go back.

They dropped our antique, much-loved, we've-had-it-for-25-years Duncan Phyfe-style dining room table OFF THE BACK OF THEIR TRUCK, and split it like a bad infinitive. They ruined our down-filled couch: hugely deep gouges and rips galore. They broke one of my bookcases. My office furniture looks like someone attacked it with a hammer and wood file. They did about $1,000 total worth of damage to the interior of our apartment, AND the apartment across the hallway from ours, which at one point the landlord had to open in hopes of it helping them unjam our couch from our doorway.

Anyway: Awful. REALLY bad. SO much of our stuff is damaged.

It was like watching The Three Stooges -- only not funny.

And (having used this company before, and been delighted with their service), I basically waived the supplemental insurance option going in, so, if I'm lucky, I'll get maybe $150 for the stuff it will cost me thousands to fix or replace.

I have a thing in my head, where if I'm upset about something -- if something's gone wrong, or has become inconvenient for me -- I think "First World Problem." If I'm out of butter: First World Problem. Sound of leaf blower annoying me: First World Problem.

My down-filled couch trashed?

First World Problem.

Have to ride someone's unprotected wifi signal in order to post something on my blog because AT&T is two days late turning on my internet service?